


Call of the sea

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Pirate AU, thor swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>His skin is pale, moon kissed, and a beautiful contrast to the black of his hair, the green of his eyes; it is, too, unblemished, no trace of injury or scar, nothing to speak of his prowess but milky skin to where the eye can see, and Thor wonders if he is a man at all.</i><br/>Thor and his crew find a survivor to the ship they just raided, and the only one who knows how to read a book containing a map that leads to a treasure worth ten million galleons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call of the sea

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "thor (and loki? if you want) as pirates!!" from lovely [thorithorson](http://thorithorson.tumblr.com) for Thor Swap. I cannot draw for the life of me so I got my very favourite [pirate au fanart](http://albenkind.tumblr.com/post/78995664977/thor-loki-pirate-au-parts-of-norse-mythology) from [albenkind](http://albenkind.tumblr.com) and did the one thing I (kinda) know how to do.

They say a man’s story is told by the marks on his skin. Thor, in all his years of sailing, has found it to be true.

He has made his home at sea, with the constant lulling of the waves and the kiss of the sun, painting his skin golden in its wake; tanned skin pulls tight around muscle, strong and deadly and beautiful, littered with scars of all shapes and sizes, some fresh and some old as the ship he sails, marks of youth and inexperience. But as many scars as he may have, they remain just that. Scars. Only the reminder that he has pulled through whatever threat has stood before him, that he has earned his place as Captain. The ugliest scar is nothing compared to the treasures he has found and the deaths he has inflicted on anyone who would dare stand against him.

Only a dead man is a man that gains no scars.

But yet, as he stands one step ahead of his crew, all the living image of pride and power, he finds himself at odds with that belief.

Thor and his men had raided a ship, smaller than their own and hopeless before the bloodlust of men who had not found treasure in what felt like forever, and were eager for whatever held the promise of wealth. Men had been killed, gold had been taken, and the ship had been set ablaze when no other use was found for it, and in the end it had been down to one man, soaked to the bone and somehow managing his way up to Thor’s own ship, if only to be questioned until he was once again left to his own devices and deep into open sea.

“And why, exactly, should I trust you?” The Captain asks and it is as much a question for the man as it is for himself.

The man before him smirks, a glimpse of pearl white teeth between rosy lips, stained with the crimson dripping from his cut lip, but that is as much injury as he shows. His skin is pale, moon kissed, and a beautiful contrast to the black of his hair, the green of his eyes; it is, too, unblemished, no trace of injury or scar, nothing to speak of his prowess but milky skin to where the eye can see, and Thor wonders if he is a man at all.

“Because I’m the only one who can give you what you want.”

There is a small laugh coming from several men of his crew, collective disbelief at the man’s words. But Thor knows he speaks the truth -or some part of it, at the very least.

“How many of your men can read that book?” He asks, if only to prove his point, and the shameful looks passed between the men confirms it just as much as the sudden silence that falls over them. “I thought as much.” He tells him, with all the arrogance of the well spoken. “ _I_ can read it. If you were only to allow me.”

His words are only disguised as an offer, and Thor knows he is left without choice. “How can I be sure you will not betray me?”

The man shrugs in return, a look of amusement playing in his face, tugging at the corners of his lips. “Where else could I go?”

\--

It is only with a trace of mistrust that Thor lets Loki roam his ship freely; after all, he spoke truth when he said there would be nowhere he could go. They sail in open sea, following an invisible path that Thor trusts will lead them to a treasure unlike any other, the promise of ten million galleons one that was too good to refuse, tugging at his heartstrings and urging him forward, blindly following the instructions of a man he had met but a few nights ago.

He is not a foolish man, not by any degree if his title as Captain is anything to account for, and he knows what he is doing is too much of a wager, too much of a risk, but if even the empty promise of wealth is enough to keep his men’s hearts at peace, it is one he is willing to take.

He is proud of his ship and his crew above all things, and he would be damned to let that go to waste over a few months of bad luck in their raids. He did not win his title and two dozen men’s trust by giving up.

"You seem so sure of what you are doing.” Thor spoke as he walked up to the other, gazed settled on the horizon and the lulling of the waves. “Yet we don’t seem to be getting any closer to this treasure of yours.”

It earns him a laugh, one that is only half humourless, and Loki turns to face him. “It is more than you have managed so far. Your men are becoming restless.” Says with a nod of his head towards the men working under the heavy sun, throwing cautious looks their way.

“My men will wait as long as I need them to.” Thor assures, but it does nothing to change Loki’s opinion.

“You could tell yourself that.” A smirk teases at the corners of his lips, eyes gleaming with mischief as he takes a step closer to him. “Or you could let me do what I will, and earn yourself a treasure unlike any other,” A slim finger trails up the side of Thor’s arm, fingertip stroking across one scar and then the next, and when Loki looks up to meet his gaze, his eyes are alight with something enticing and dangerous in equal amounts, just like everything Thor strives for. “and the respect of your men -if that is good for something.”

Thor gulps, watches him carefully, and when that long finger continues its path across his golden skin, trailing up to his shoulder, he can feel his resolve crumbling. “Just keep to yourself.” He demands, roughly taking a hold of Loki’s wrist, stopping him from going any further. “And take me to my treasure.”

The Captain’s words only seem to make Loki’s smirk grow cheekier, and when Thor turns around in one quick step, resolute on walking away, he can still feel Loki’s touch on him, burning on his skin.

\--

Thor is sure Loki enjoys it. The game. Weaving clever words around whoever was unlucky enough -or perhaps lucky, he thinks briefly- to come across him, luring them in with a sharp smile and sweet promises, realizing only until it was too late, if ever, that they have been rendered naught but a puppet in whatever scheme he has on mind.

That’s why he holds no scars, no proof of his strength. Loki erases the possibility of a fight before it ever comes to be, letting clever words and mind games work his way. Like a siren would to a helpless sailor, Thor thinks with a sharp pang in his chest, before she drowns him.

Not this time, he promises himself, his will is much too strong to be broken.

Yet, as the orange hues of the evening sun filter through the windows of the Captain’s quarters, calloused fingers trail milky skin, lips following in their wake.

Loki’s skin is unblemished, softer and sweeter than that of any of the many women Thor has taken to his bed, seeking his pleasure in whatever willing flesh he could get once they reached land and before the song of the waves lured him back to sea. He kisses the long curve of his neck, licks the taut cord of muscle as Loki tips his head back. 

His hands are soft and nimble, but his touch is rough, demanding, and Thor cannot find it in himself to deny it. He takes him to bed between rough kisses and light bites, letting the low bed cushion his fall as he is pushed onto his back, the corners of his lips curling upwards as his eyes open and settle on Loki, watching him with hunger in his gaze as he nudges Thor’s knees apart, moving to stand between his legs.

Black hair frames Loki’s face, the contrast making his green eyes seem all the sharper, and Thor cannot help a gasp as he licks his lips in an obvious display before sinking to his knees between Thor’s legs, quick fingers finding their way to the laces of Thor’s trousers.

Loki is certain in his touch, confident as he makes quick work of Thor’s clothes, quickly forgotten on the floor by the bed, and when he takes the head of his cock between his lips, pink and perfectly stretched around him and just as good as the rarest of spoils, Thor has never been happier of accepting someone new into his ship.

His cock is thick in his mouth, heavy and swollen against his tongue, and Thor’s breath quickens with the pace that Loki sets, fingers finding their way to raven hair.

Loki’s tongue is as clever here as it is with everything else, drawing wet stripes along the underside of his cock and back up, one hand resting on Thor’s thigh, feeling the faint trembles under his touch as he presses a sweet kiss to the head before wrapping his lips around it and sucking _just so_ , teasing in a way that makes Thor both curse and bless him for. 

Thor’s hips start bucking upwards of their own accord, his fingers holding onto Loki’s hair, pushing it out of his face so that he may watch as he takes him expertly into his mouth, painfully slow but equally sweet, and when long lashes flutter open, emerald eyes gazing up at Thor’s face in a way that is almost innocent, Thor decides he’s close, too close, and that simply will not do. 

It is only with a grunt and one quick motion that he manages to pry Loki away from him, revelling in the surprised look he gets, however brief, when he pushes him down on the bed.

He’d dare say he’s not a greedy man, pleased more with the thrill of a raid than of the spoils it would get him, content with the lulling of the waves and the sun on his skin, but as he leans over Loki, arms caging the sides of his head, he thinks he wants him all for himself, all clever words and quick wit, and what he is getting is not enough.

“Someone’s eager.” Loki teases, smirk ghosting over his lips, as Thor loses no time in getting rid of the other’s clothes, hands hungry for him and lips quick to follow.

Thor replies only with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes, his mind settled on more pressing matters, his mouth busy on the crook of Loki’s neck, arched back just for him.

The golden buckle of Loki’s belt clatters to the floor as Thor tosses it to the side and he is, finally, completely bare before him, unabashed as he stretches himself out, back arching off the bed for the Captain’s viewing pleasure. His skin is moon-kissed and perfect wherever Thor touches him, unmarked but for the black ink that stretches gracefully across his back, soft against his work roughened hands, warm under his lips. His legs are strong where they wrap around Thor’s waist, his fingers demanding as they dig into the muscles of his back, the curve of his cock resting proud and heavy against his stomach in the just the loveliest of ways, and Thor wants nothing more than to touch, to claim.

Loki’s composed mask only lasts a few more moments after that, and soon he is writhing under his touch, body begging for more as he pushes into his hands, cursing under his breath when Thor only wants to draw it out for longer. He throws empty threats to the air until Thor finally complies, amused laugh leaving his lips as he reaches for a bottle of oil from the bedside table.

He coats his fingers generously with the oil, and, at the hungry look Loki gives him, it’s all he can do not to fuck mindlessly into him, his blood pumping hot in his veins as settles between his legs and presses one, then two fingers into him, met with little, if any, resistance, Loki’s body opening beautifully for him. 

“Hurry up.” Loki chokes out as the third finger starts easing into him.

“Who’s eager now?” Thor replies, smirking proudly as he curls his fingers in just the right way that has Loki whimpering in need. 

It is good but not good enough, and there is only so much teasing Loki can take before he starts nudging and pulling at Thor. “Fuck me now.” He orders, and the Captain does not question him, slipping his fingers out with a sweet kiss to Loki’s hip.

He moves on top of Loki once more and the kiss he steals from him is nothing short of desperate, blunt teeth biting and tongues tasting until they are both left breathless, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. 

There is a quick effort at getting some more oil onto his cock, but Loki doesn’t seem to care for it, eager as he tugs Thor on top of him and his back arches off the bed as just the fat head starts pushing past the tight ring of muscle, much thicker and much better than his fingers. 

He has half a mind of going slow at first, but Loki will have none of it, hooking his legs around Thor’s waist and tugging him forward, gasping as he bottoms out, stretching him as much as he would go. 

A heartbeat passes before Thor starts to move, pulling back until just the head of his cock is inside him, leaving Loki with the threat of being left empty, only to push back home in one smooth thrust. He starts building up a pace, the bed creaking under their added weight, and revels on each moan he draws out from Loki, on the look on his face as he curls himself into him, pushes his hips up to meet Thor’s thrusts halfway there. He watches the features of Loki’s face as he moves, the fluttering of his lashes and the sweat that gathers on his brow, and his pleasure only builds.

Loki is demanding even then, fingers digging and nails scratching Thor’s back, adding his own marks to his golden skin, and Thor cannot think of denying him, quickening the pace of his hips, hooking his arms under Loki’s knees and tugging them up so that he may go faster, _deeper_.

“ _Loki_.” He groans as his pleasure grows, hips snapping against his ass, and the filthy moan he gets in return is enough to drive him insane, thrusting in as deep as he could go once, twice before he comes with a deep groan inside Loki.

It is only with Loki’s insistent moans and the sharp bite he gives on his shoulder that he stops himself from going slack, letting the bliss of his pleasure wait for a while as he slips a hand between their chests, tipping his head down to trail wet kisses to the crook of his neck, and takes Loki in his hand, ignoring his own over-sensitive skin as he forces himself to keep thrusting his hips in time with his hand.

He doesn’t stop himself, sucking a bright mark on Loki’s neck, a deep red to contrast against the unblemished skin, and he thinks he could come again with just the choked off cry Loki gives in reply as he comes hard over Thor’s hand and their chests.

It is only for so long that Thor’s arms hold him, and he lets his weight fall atop Loki’s, trying to get his breath back. 

He lets his eyes close and tucks his face in the crook of Loki’s neck, lips pressing gently against the skin and breathing in his scent -like musk and salt and the sea he loves so dearly-, and figures, if he is to be drowned, then he would rather it be with clever words and a silver tongue to drag him under.


End file.
